Vengeance is Mine

In a bad place

Vengeance is Mine, sayeth … the democrats

Eyes forward

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

            Little did Garcia Ordonez de Montalvo know that his vision of the mythical land he named California would grow legs and become the most politically correct center of the universe in the modern age.

            The vehicle was his 1510 novel Las Serges de Esplandian where the powerful queen, Califia, ruled over her kingdom. The setting was an island and the only inhabitants were female warriors. Apropos for too many reasons those chicks wielded only golden weapons and rode horses bedecked with golden tack.

            The expectation of such a place was all too apparent some 43 years later when Hernán Cortéz landed on the coast of Baja California very near where the hurricane Lorena is raising havoc this very hour. He must have believed he was on that island because his naming of the sur and norté portions of that new land became the ongoing stuff of conditional legend.

            Cortéz and his contemporaries searched high and low trying to find those golden girls with their stash of treasure. For that matter, the search is still ongoing. The expectation that the depository of lasting and endless fortune will be uncovered and shared by one and all is clearly apparent.

            The only reality thus far, though, is the arrival of the legalistic and make-believe matriarchal rendition of society strongly influenced by a regular plethora of golden girls, both natural and assumed, of all persuasions.

            In a bad place

            It isn’t just America that is buffeted by humanistic insanity.

            Luis and I talked about his operation near Casas Grande. I suggested he was lucky to have such a ready supply of labor while our agricultural operations were in the throes of a downward spiral of inadequacy. He disagreed.

            “Nobody wants to work,” he said.

            Nobody wants to work in Mexico? It seems that the California syndrome of communal largesse is fully in play in a much wider field of view than not. Seemingly, the majority of folks have become convinced they are being deprived of their natural rights by some imperialistic horde of bad guys that deserve their collective disdain.

            That certainly is the theme of the democratic hopefuls for our highest office.

            Of course, their main target is on the back of guys that look too much like the characters I know. We just don’t realize that too much of our leisure time is spent plotting and maneuvering to take advantage of another poor soul who remains defenseless.

            I’m just trying to think of when that leisure time occurred. For that matter, I am trying to think of when that same condition happened to my friends. Examples are in order.

On Mogollon Creek, loads of old cows have been prepped for shipment in the face of killing drought. Fretting their departure was only worsened when enough rain finally fell. Two weeks would have made all the difference in the world in nightmarish decisions.

            At the end of Anderson Road, the pending end of the federal fiscal year makes the completion of various cooperative projects only more daunting. Pipelines still remain unfinished, storages are not yet delivered, and the unequal distribution of rain make management of the river pastures only more difficult to handle.

            In the Potrillos, the ongoing battle of water is taking a confounding technical turn. Pump designs and head pressures should be adequate to be putting water in upper storages, but it isn’t getting there. The horrors of that are only multiplied when a 100 head of cows are found standing at empty troughs and demanding your attention by their desperate vocal discussions with you. Looking around reveals only you are standing there to resolve this latest threat.

            At Saddle Mountain, the notes on the table reveal the drought related feed costs for first calvers is probably now more than the value of those calves at the market. That is compounded by the damage of a centralized cloud burst that created infrastructure damage that will be fixed only by yet more investment.

            In the Sleeping Ladies, the premature death of the manager only made the drought more acute. Phone calls discussing protein supplements and depleting pastures only added to the stress. “What do we do,” was the ending query.

            That’s a good question. What do we do?

            Eyes forward

            We meet the sunrise is what we do.

            But, we also reject the constant and hideous assault on our being by leaders whose crusade paths rely solely on threats or constant mischaracterization of truth. In fact, it is clearly apparent the entirety of the bundle of facts being employed by that crew is not just distasteful but erroneous and surreptitiously misapplied.

            We don’t go around shooting people so stay away from our Second Amendment right of passage.

            For heaven’s sake, at least learn to pronounce Beto correctly, too. Give him credit for being honest in the gun debate. He revealed what we know. The liberal intent has always been to take our guns away. His response was couched in AR speak, but he clearly set forth the mission.

            Bernie’s proclivity to avoid work rules his being. His true allegiance to Marxism cannot nor has it ever been hidden. He is an out and out commie and his reliance on living on the system has made it fashionable for like minds to be revealed.

            Andrew Yang has made dog food his natural, contributed narrative. Avoid GMOs at all costs, but ingredients of dog food are the in thing. Getting rid of cows and relying on vats of same concoction that makes up those commercial canine formulations is his road map to putting humanity first.

            The looming front runner, though, isn’t the senile one with hair plugs and neon teeth. It’s the virtual Indian. She is also the casting skookum for the modern Democratic party. Vengeance is their operative theme.

            Indeed, they look for its expanded use.

            Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico.